


rome is also built on ruins

by thewordsthatweareneeding



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Gen, can be read as shippy i guess, friendship fic, have fun kids, pls bear with me i am so sorry, the formatting is wonky bc i can never copy/paste quite right, woohooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordsthatweareneeding/pseuds/thewordsthatweareneeding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Eren is training with Squad Levi, Mikasa is back with the other trainees, not quite enjoying the separation. Jean's learned enough about missing someone lately to recognize that Mikasa needs a friend, and he thinks maybe he could be that for her. Friendship fic with implied comfort/recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rome is also built on ruins

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the battle of Trost, during the month that Eren is training with Levi and all the 104s are off doing who knows what. If my timeline is off, please tell me, I have no idea what I'm doing (ever at all). This is meant to be sort of a filler fic, because we don't get to see Jean and Mikasa becoming more comfortable with each other, but by the time they go on the expedition outside the walls it feels like there's been sort of a shift in their dynamic. That, and I want them to be friends so badly I could cry.

She was strange, without Eren by her side. While she'd always been stoic, it had never come across as so resigned, or, of all things, brooding. Jean watched her from across the room with a mixture of concern and fascination brewing in his chest.  
"Is it just me or does Mikasa look like shit?" Connie commented through a mouthful of bread. "S'freakin weird."  
Bertholdt and Reiner exchanged an unreadable glance.  
"She's a tough kid. She'll survive," Reiner offered.  
Jean glanced around the table before returning his gaze to Mikasa. He watched her stride the length of the room and slide onto a seat at an empty table. Her hair fell across her eyes as she sat, but her lips were tightly pursed. Jean remembered for a moment the expression she'd borne when she thought Eren was dead. His mind flitted back to the first night in the barracks after losing Marco, how he had woken from nightmares only to face the silhouette of an empty bed that had once held a friend. He swallowed hard.  
"I'm going over there."  
Connie almost choked on his water. "No, man, you'll only upset her more if you try to flirt with her."  
Jean was already gathering his food and standing. "I'm not gonna flirt with her," his voice was thick with irritation. "I'm gonna offer her some company."  
Jean could feel Connie's eyes on his back as he walked away. He briefly considered turning to shoot the kid a calm-the-fuck-down look, but swallowed the impulse, less out of kindness towards Connie and more because he thought if he looked back he might lose his nerve and give up on the idea altogether.  
As it was, he found himself standing in front of Mikasa much earlier than he'd expected. She looked up at him, her expression still pulled tight across her face, and said nothing.  
"Heh," Jean cleared his throat. "Er, mind if I sit down?"  
She shook her head. "If you're looking for Armin, you'll be waiting a while. He's─"  
"I'm not looking for Armin," Jean said.  
"Oh."  
Blood pricked at the back of Jean's neck as he ungracefully took the seat across from Mikasa. Stupid, he thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid, getting flustered over a conversation that shouldn't be about him in the first place. He had promised himself that he wasn't there to impress her or anything. He had enough decency at least to know that she needed a friend more than she needed him fumbling for her affections.  
Mikasa ripped off a piece of bread, popped it into her mouth, and chewed it slowly. She didn't say anything, so neither did Jean. He kept his eyes glued to his plate and focused on eating the meal without making a complete idiot of himself.  
It took him a few minutes to notice that Mikasa hadn't moved in a while. He glanced up to see that she'd finished her meal and had been watching him warily.  
When she caught his gaze, she spoke cautiously. "I should go."  
"Okay," he said.  
Nodding curtly, she picked up her plate and retreated. Jean picked lamely at the remainder of his food, purposefully ignoring Connie's frantic attempts at catching his attention in his peripheral vision.  
The next day, Jean marched straight past his usual table and sat across from Mikasa. Again. She didn't say anything, but she also didn't ask him to leave, which was…good.  
The next meal, he did the same. Then the next, and the next, and the next, until he found Mikasa's eyes looking up in anticipation of him when he was running a little late. Most days, Armin joined them, kindly directing the conversation and smiling politely at Jean's jokes. Some days even without Armin, Mikasa offered quiet, easy conversation. The best days were the ones when Mikasa smiled, which, surprisingly, was happening more and more frequently. Without even noticing it, Jean began looking forward to meals more than ever.  
Still, their loose semblance of a friendship hardly extended beyond the dining hall.  
"So what's up with you and Mikasa?" Connie prodded, twirling a dull, wooden knife in his hands.  
Jean glanced over his shoulder briefly to be sure that no one was listening in on the conversation. Strangely enough, the Survery Corps' newest members seemed more interested in honing their skills in order to survive their first mission than they were in whatever idle gossiping occurred between Connie and Jean. Jean gave noncommittal grunt before turning back to Connie.  
"There's nothing going on," he said, sharp and defensive. After a moment of hesitation, he sighed. "I don't know? I mean, I'm pretty sure she doesn't hate me."  
"Doesn't mean she likes you either."  
Jean's eyes narrowed at Connie's laughing grin. "You think I don't know that?"  
Connie's grin only widened. "You know, I'm sort of a genius when it comes to flirting. A lot of it is my natural good looks and winning personality, obviously, but I'm sure I could dig up a few tips for you. You know, since you're so desperate and all."  
"Shut up, Connie," Jean rolled his eyes.  
"Ouch." He put his hand to his chest as if offended. "Your interpersonal skills are as bad as I feared. We need to start your training immed─"  
Jean cut him off by lunging forward and grabbing at the knife. Connie's grin stretched into a thin smirk a second before he twisted and ducked into Jean's attack, meeting him by throwing an elbow at his rib cage.  
Jean anticipated it. He'd sparred with Connie too many times not to recognize the kid's favorite counterattack. Before the elbow could hit its mark, Jean shifted to the side. Gravity caught Connie's weight and carried it forward. All Jean had to do was sweep his foot beneath Connie's legs to send the boy sprawling.  
Connie moaned and sat up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. "Ow, what the fu─" His eyes suddenly widened and he broke off.  
"That's what you get for talking shit, Springer." Jean raised an eyebrow and grinned.  
"That was impressive," a voice behind him spoke.  
Jean whipped around so quickly he almost lost his balance. "Mikasa?"  
The girl gave a tight-lipped smile that seemed more of a grimace. But she also put a steadying hand on his elbow, even if only for a moment. "Your takedown was impressive."  
He felt his face grow hot. "Thanks."  
Mikasa held his eyes for a few moments more before clearing her throat. "If you want to spar sometime, I could─"  
"Okay," he said. Immediately, a wave of embarrassment over responding so quickly rose in his stomach.  
Her mouth twitched slightly. "Okay."  
After a few beats of silence, Mikasa twirled her fingers in her scarf and mumbled something about how Sasha was waiting for her. Jean nodded and watched her walk away.  
As soon as she was out of earshot, Connie raised his voice several octaves and drawled, "Oh Jean, your takedown was so impressive."  
"Tch," Jean pushed Connie back, ignoring the shorter boy's fluttering eyelashes and mocking kissing noises.  
Sparring with Mikasa turned out to be, well, as terrible an idea as it sounded. Jean may have been one of the better hand-to-hand combatants, but Mikasa was the best. He'd accepted her offer with the hope of talking to her. He soon learned, however, that it was nearly impossible to get a word out between dodges and blows.  
She wasn't trying to hurt him. If anything, he thought she might have been holding herself back. When the training period ended, Jean was covered in dirt, but no blood had been shed. He had a few tender areas that he expected would become bruises, and a twinge in his shoulder that might have been a pulled muscle. He'd braced himself to handle worse.  
"You're really strong," Jean said.  
At the same time, Mikasa said, "You should get cleaned up."  
Jean frowned. He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it as he saw Mikasa do the same. She seemed to have the same idea, as she said nothing. The two looked at each other in uncomfortable silence, both afraid of talking over the other.  
Finally, Mikasa spoke up. "You should tape your shoulder up."  
"Huh?"  
She looked down slightly, her eyes just barely not meeting his. "Your left shoulder. You've been favoring it for the past fifteen minutes. It hurts, doesn't it?"  
"Oh. Yeah," Jean smiled, hoping he didn't look or sound too dumb. "I'll…tape it up."  
When he made no move to leave, Mikasa spoke again. "Do you…want help?"  
His smile widened and he noted distantly that yeah, he definitely looked and sounded dumb. "Sure."  
Mikasa hummed softly and turned to walk away. For a few seconds, Jean thought she'd changed her mind and decided to find Armin and go off…wherever they did whenever they had no duties to attend to. But just as embarrassment began to sink like a rock in his stomach, she turned to give him a questioning look. Her gait slowed as if uncertain and he understood instantly that he was meant to follow her. He stumbled after her immediately, catching up in only a few strides.  
He wasn't entirely sure where they were going. Although Jean had begun training considerably more earnestly since joining the Scouting Legion, sparring with Connie and occasionally Armin had never left him with an injury. He supposed there was probably an area to go to treat trivial, non-Titan related injuries, but he had never been there.  
That was why when they approached the women's barracks, Jean stifled his surprise. It wasn't unreasonable to think there might be a casual infirmary there. For all he knew, there was one in the men's barracks as well and he just hadn't noticed it.  
When Mikasa finally stopped and opened a door, however, the room that greeted him was decidedly not any sort of infirmary. Rather, it held little but a set of beds and some sparse furniture─ exactly identical to the room he and the other recruits slept in. A bedroom, he thought. Mikasa had led him to her bedroom, or at least, the closest thing she had to a bedroom.  
One look at Mikasa assured him that any intimacy in the gesture was entirely imagined. She turned her body away from him to step through the doorway without squishing against him, but otherwise, seemed unfazed. She walked steadily to one of the beds, reached under the pillow, and pulled out a small roll of medical tape. By the time she turned back to Jean, he had entered the room and taken a position leaning against the wall.  
"You should sit," she told him.  
Jean furrowed his eyebrows. "Here?"  
The corners of Mikasa's mouth twitched. "Anywhere is fine, but the floor is probably uncomfortable."  
Jean nodded, focusing on containing the flush that threatened to creep up his neck, and walked closer to her. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, waiting to find some sign that he'd misunderstood her direction. Her face remained a smooth mask. Jean sat gingerly down on the bed across from hers.  
"Have you ever wrapped an injury before?"  
"Uh, no."  
"I'll do it then."  
She took a few stops towards him. When she stopped, he noticed that she was more tense than she had been a minute ago. He frowned. Concern seeped through him before halting suddenly as he noticed her staring intently at him.  
"You're going to need to take off your shirt," she said.  
Shit, he thought. His mouth went dry, but he complied and began to unbutton his shirt with fumbling fingers. He pulled his left arm out of the sleeve and looked up at her. Mikasa took his left hand in hers and placed it on her shoulder. Jean knew the gesture was meant only to give her a better angle at his shoulder, but nevertheless, the warmth of her touch was soothing and he leaned into it. Mikasa tugged the end of the tape free and began winding it around Jean's injured shoulder, he face so close that he could feel her breath on his skin. He waited for his mind to cloud over as it usually did, but he felt as level-headed as ever.  
In all their interactions over the weeks, Jean had felt too distant, too new to her to be able to look at her for more than a few seconds without flushing or looking away. But this time he looked at her, really looked at her, and instead of getting caught up in her hair or her lips or anything that usually tripped him up, it was her eyes that caught his notice. More specifically, it was the dark, bruise-colored circles that lined them. His eyes darted across the room to her bed. If her pillow wasn't sunken in, he might have thought she hadn't slept in a week. Something in the back of his mind stirred and began pulling at his chest.  
"You've been having nightmares." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.  
Mikasa stiffened. Her eyes cut to his face for a moment before moving back to his shoulder. She said nothing.  
Jean took a deep breath. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?" he watched her steadily, but her face did not change. "I-It wouldn't be strange to be having nightmares, considering what we've all been through lately. Especially you."  
She spoke without looking him in the eye. "It's not that."  
He hummed, but there was no humor or warmth in the sound. "I used to have nightmares too. Almost every night after Marco died." He swallowed hard before continuing. "I still have them sometimes."  
She turned her eyes on him for an instant before looking away again. There was honesty in her gaze, as well as a darkness he couldn't explain. Armin had said once that Mikasa lost her parents when she was young. Jean had never mentioned it to her, but he thought it had something to do with Eren. At least, the blackness of her expression reminded him of the face she'd made when Sasha had asked why she called Eren her brother. Like she was bracing her muscles against something surging inside her.  
"I know how to handle nightmares, Jean. They don't bother me."  
Her voice was firm, but Jean didn't notice. What he heard, louder than anything, was the implication that she'd had nightmares long enough to grow accustomed to them. He clenched and unclenched his fists.  
"I'm sorry," he said lamely.  
Mikasa only nodded.  
He wanted to ask what it was that was bothering her. What kept her from sleeping, if not nightmares? Why was she so quiet, so stiff? Why wouldn't she talk to anyone about it? For once, he kept his mouth firmly shut. They were barely even friends, after all. He couldn't expect to eat with her a few times and then have her open up completely.  
"Do you miss him?"  
Jean almost jumped at the question. "Eren?"  
She shook her head. "Marco."  
"Oh." Jean was quiet for a moment before setting his shoulders straight. "A lot, yeah. All the time."  
"Has it gotten easier?"  
He thought for a moment. "No. I don't think so. I think I've just…gotten used to it, y'know?"  
Mikasa did not look at him, but her shoulders relaxed. "When I thought Eren had died, I knew it was my fault. I should have been with him. I should have protected him." She bunched her hands up in her scarf and fell silent. After a few moments, she continued. "Even though I know he's alive, when he's not at my side, I feel like he's gone. It's been almost a month. I want him to come home."  
Jean flexed the fingers of his left hand hesitantly. He had learned recently the importance of tactile reassurance, though he wasn't sure if Mikasa felt the same way. She didn't seem the type to accept casual touches. But as soon as her eyes met his, he forgot discretion and squeezed her shoulder gently. She did not push him away.  
He considered telling her that Eren was in the hands of humanity's strongest, and that nothing would happen to him. He considered telling her that worrying wouldn't help anyone. He considered telling her that it would be okay. Jean opened his mouth to say any of these things, but closed it again. There was a tugging in his stomach that made him somehow sure that none of it was anything she wanted to hear.  
Finally, he slackened his grip on shoulder and spoke. "Eren is lucky to have you looking out for him."  
She didn't say anything, but something in her body shifted. She seemed to stand straighter, firmer, and more assured. She pushed her hair gracefully behind her ear, but Jean was watching her eyes. An understanding seemed to pass between them, and Jean noticed, not for the first time but the most clearly, that she mattered to him. In a few short weeks, Mikasa had stopped being a girl he wanted to impress or cheer up or push any sort of agenda with. She'd become his friend, and he knew her more than he ever expected to. He had spoken with her and had listened, and somewhere along the lines, he had begun to really hear. And understand. And care about, really and deeply and more than he ever meant to. He heaved out a slow, shaking sigh.  
Mikasa ripped the end of the tape from the roll and smoothed its edge down firmly onto Jean. She said nothing to indicate she was finished, but when she moved it away, Jean dropped his hand back to his side.  
"Thank you," he said. She smiled tightly.  
That night, she was quiet all throughout dinner. Armin filled the silence with amiable chatter about his horse, or possibly training plans for the following day. In all honesty, Jean wasn't listening. Mikasa on the other hand, seemed to be listening intently. Jean caught her eye and smiled. Her lips twitched in response before her gaze shifted back to Armin, and something in the gesture made Jean smile even wider. He touched his hand absentmindedly to his shoulder and felt the wrappings underneath. She didn't look so brooding anymore, he thought.


End file.
